These black boots are walking reminder of how unwilling I am to buy new shoes.
These boots guided me through snow of a
brown, or pure white color that would leave a unique tie dye pattern.
The toes of my socks soaked of water.
Nevertheless, they served me well.
They continue to serve me well.
I don’t own sandals for the summer.
Women sporting their painted toenails.
Free of clostrophobia, sunkissed.
Looking down is a reminder that I still have last Fall’s style, that of Rochester. So in.
No flip flops falling off my feet accidentally.
No weaving my feet through intricate straps of leather.
They embrace feet and hug my calves. It’s the type of closeness I need.
I don’t care what I am wearing on my feet as long as they help me get where I want to go.